


Moonlight

by hColleen



Category: YuYu Hakusho
Genre: BDSM, M/M, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-11
Updated: 2012-06-11
Packaged: 2017-11-07 12:12:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/431051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hColleen/pseuds/hColleen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pairing: Someone/Kurama (It's obvious, just at the end and the beginning is more fun if I don't tell you)<br/>Warnings: Appears of dub con, much with the BDSM, I'm not telling you who the pairing is for a reason, McGuffins ahoy!<br/>Summary: Kurama's just out for a walk when someone takes an interest in redressing him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moonlight

Moonlight painted familiar scenes with a new light—that which was familiar past noticing became new, frightening almost, as Kurama walked through the forest. He knew this place as well as he knew his own room, but something he couldn’t define made it a very strange place. There had been the almost sensation of walking through a barrier, but when he retraced his path, nothing was there, so he dismissed it as his imagination and shook his head to clear it before continuing down the path.

“How long do you intend to intrude here?” a disembodied voice asked, again almost familiar.

Kurama whipped around, hunting for the source, his hand reaching up to the seeds in his hair, but not touching one yet. There were still many ways that he could defend himself before he absolutely needed those. “Perhaps if you tell me your name, I can answer that,” he said guardedly, still trying to find the source of the voice. After several moments, no one was revealed to his senses, nothing to sight nor scent nor those otherworldly senses of his kitsune heritage. He began walking again, slowly, still looking, hoping to penetrate the darkness where the moonlight refused to travel. He slid his hands in his pockets, fingering a couple of seeds that he kept there as well.

“Why didn’t you turn back?” the same voice demanded.

Kurama whipped around, his hands coming from his pockets, grass blades fully formed by the time he had his hands at shoulder level. He crouched, lowering his body to keep his balance better, turning, seeking out his enemy. “Who are you?” he demanded, his voice low, threatening. Again, there was no answer and, despite his efforts, Kurama could find nothing. He began walking again, but the blades remained and he remained crouched, trying to find that voice and the person it came from.

“I warned you,” came as a cold threat an instant before Kurama found himself pressed to the ground, unable to move, not even to look around just moving his eyes. He’d never felt so trapped before, so humiliated, so violated. Then his plants were taken from his hands and he tried to scream out against the absolute vulnerability, but the sound would not come.

Almost hands pulled his clothes from his body, suspending him in the air a few inches above the ground. Though he tried, he could not actually feel or see the ones touching him, unbuttoning his shirt and pants, removing the cloth from his body. He was lifted so that he was upright, his feet hovering several inches above the ground. His socks, shoes, and even his underwear was removed without him being able to see who was doing so. He struggled, fighting to move, to kick, to do anything beside hang defenseless, but could not.

“What do you want?” Kurama spat out, almost surprised to find he could say anything.

There was no answer as black net style stockings were pulled onto his legs.

He tried to kick, but his limbs refused to move. The desire to fight became more desperate as black shorts that covered less than his underwear were slid up his legs. The zip was drawn up, but the button left undone. Next came a pair of boots that slid up his legs to mid thigh, soft and supple but with almost impossibly high heels. A silken damask vest slid up his arms of its own accord, only the center button of the seven silver ones lining up the front fastened itself, the lapels of the vest pulling the top open a little farther. Kurama’s feet touched the ground again and he stumbled as he fought to find his sense of balance again on the odd footwear. Turning in a circle, to help adjust to the shoe, he tried to find his own clothing again. It wasn’t that he didn’t like to dress like this, but he preferred it on his own terms. He reached up and found that his hair had been bound up into a ponytail without him noticing.

“Who are you?” he demanded. He almost screamed in frustration when there was no answer. He did scream, indignation coloring it, as what felt like a paddle made contact with his ass, low, just below where the shorts stopped. He tried to turn, to move away, reach up for a weapon, but found himself unable to move again. Another strike, another scream, indignation taking an edge of almost pleasure. He couldn’t deny that he enjoyed this, but he preferred to know who the hell was going to be attempting to dominate him before he changed into his gear.

His limbs were stretched out, his feet pulled far enough apart that he almost lost his balance and the little shorts slid up into his ass, pulling tight over his cock. His hands were raised above his head, an almost sensation of ropes wrapped around his arms and connecting him to the trees around him crawling along his skin though there were no ropes that he could see out of the corners of his eyes. Even his ponytail was pulled, his head forced back, exposing his throat to whatever it was that wanted to violate him. “Who are you?” he asked again, a whimper in his voice though he fought against it. Another strike to his ass, this one over the leather that struggled to cover anything, adding that sensation to the anger and burgeoning arousal he felt. He thought he’d trained his body better than this, but obviously the time he’d spent playing human had ruined what control he had gained through his life as a thief.

“What control?” the voice mocked. “You took what you wanted, when you wanted.”

His eyes flew wide, fear adding its savor to everything else he was feeling. “What?” he spat out, though it sounded weak and breathless to his ears. There was no answer, though and he was left for a long moment, nothing that resembled contact, unable to move. He flexed his legs, his arms, trying to move, but, though he couldn’t see any restraints, he could not free himself. Despite himself, he relaxed into his bondage with a whimper.

As a reward, it seemed, a blistering assault of strikes against the skin of his ass began. He screamed over and over, pain and pleasure twisting together, drowning out the indignation that still filled his voice as the treatment began. His eyes rolled back into his head as the strikes covered his legs and up his back. In his mind, he could picture the welts that had to be covering his skin, red lines covered in black on his ass and legs, the silken vest sliding over his marked back. He groaned, the image more vivid in his mind than if he was looking at someone else that he was giving the same treatment to.

“You really want to fuck yourself, don’t you?” the voice mocked.

Kurama was beyond protesting. “Yes,” he whimpered.

A phantom hand caressed his erection, bringing into sharp focus just how hard he was and how very tight those shorts were and the fact that the netting caressed him under the leather. “Like this, you are to be fucked,” the voice purred.

Kurama’s knees gave out on him, leaving him hanging by his arms, the tension on his hair increasing. He whimpered. “Who are you to fuck me?” he tried to demand, but the words came out needy. “How can you fuck me without a body?”

A chuckle and the feeling of someone tracing a finger up his spine was his only answer. Kurama whimpered, trying to arch into that touch, to deepen it, but he couldn’t support himself enough to be able to do anything but hang there, trembling in need.

Without warning, a very precise strike, like from a riding crop, to his cock made him scream, thrusting his hips into the pain that almost made him come. Another strike to his balls tightened his legs as he tried to fall to the ground. Despite the intensity of the pain, or perhaps because of it, he was even more aroused. One more strike, farther back, against his asshole had him screaming in pleasure, his muscles tensing as to come, but something prevented him from fully falling over that edge. He screamed again in frustration, then in pained pleasure as the strikes moved to his ass. He could feel the throbbing, circular welts that pulsed with pain every time his human heart beat. Those sharp stings traced around his body, striking at his abdomen, the vest parting conveniently, or perhaps the phantom flogger could pass through the fabric. Kurama didn’t know and didn’t care as his voice took on a raw edge and he begged for more every way his body would allow him. Every inch of his skin throbbed with pain when the beating stopped, even skin that hadn’t been touched, like his face.

Trembling, needy, aching to come, wanting more, wanting to see who was doing this to him, Kurama could only whimper, his eyes staring sightlessly into the canopy above him. Were it not for whatever it was that held his arms up, he would be a boneless pile on the forest floor. “Fuck me,” he whimpered. A moment passed and he became aware of a tension in the atmosphere. “Please, please, fuck this unworthy one,” he panted.

A sharp, lingering pinch made him very aware of his nipples, the sensation traveling to his cock, making it twitch against the stockings and leather shorts, the combined sensation drawing another whimper of need from Kurama’s throat. “That’s better,” the voice said, approval evident, but amusement dominant. “But, no, not yet. You’re not ready yet.”

A frustrated scream clawed at Kurama’s raw throat. “I am,” he protested. “I…need…I need to come,” he sobbed.

What might have been a hand stroked his cock firmly. Kurama whimpered and rocked into it. “You don’t need to come yet or that would have made you come.” The hand was removed.

“Who are you?” Kurama whispered, his voice broken as he tried to remember how to breathe.

Points, like the tips of several knives or maybe sharpened nails, trailed over his skin, apparently not needing to move fabric to touch his body. Every mark was set on fire again and Kurama’s voice gave out on him, his mouth hanging open as he tried to scream out his pleasured pain. “Fuck me,” he whispered when he had a chance. “Please, I need you to fuck me.”

Without warning, Kurama found himself staring at the ground, hovering above it, his legs held wide by restraints at the knees, his ankles bound to his hips. It was deliciously uncomfortable. His hands moved behind his back, his hands against the opposite elbow, his weight somehow balanced between his forearms and his chest. His hair remained pulled back, lengthening his spine, adding that discomfort to the rest. He could not remember being so vulnerable, so exposed, so turned on before in his life. “Please,” he sobbed, his voice raw, full of need.

No verbal answer was given, but something long and flexible, a whip perhaps, danced along his skin sharply. Kurama’s eyes rolled back in his head and his mind abandoned him, giving his body over to the pleasure that only such torture could give him. Welts appeared on his skin, dotted with crimson drops of vital fluid that soon left tiny rivers on what had once been perfectly porcelain skin. Screams still came, weak from the abuse his throat had taken, but begging soon began to take over. “Please, Master, please may I have your cock?” Kurama sobbed after a lash left a line of broken skin along the whole length of his spine.

“It’s about time you asked properly,” the voice purred in approval.

With no further warning, Kurama’s ass was stretched almost beyond its capacity, again without moving anything he was wearing. Kurama screamed, his voice breaking almost as soon as the sound started, leaving the forest silent, his scream echoing only in his head as his body was thrust into and out of in time to the racing of his own heart. His heart felt as though it was trying to escape his body through his ribs or his throat, which ever gave way first. Muscles quivered, the signals reaching them shattered into a million pieces before they left his brain. Pressure against his cock pushed him over that edge and he came hard, his body shutting down on him as he did.

When he was aware again, he was on a soft surface and the clothing that touched his skin had nothing in common with what he’d been wearing. His body still ached, his skin stinging from where he was sure lacerations coursed over his back and ass. His throat ached, even moreso when he tried to speak. “Enjoy yourself?” From behind, a chuckle answered him. Kurama’s body was too well satisfied and too painful to move to look. “Good to know someone did,” he said, his voice warning him against talking anymore.

A weight caused the surface he was resting on to shift behind him, his body protesting against the movement. He could feel the warmth of another body against his skin even though it never touched him. “Oh, we both know you enjoyed yourself very much. That’s a nice little toy you found, Kurama. Who did you steal it from?”

Kurama’s eyes went to the orb on the bedside table. When he’d last seen it, it was alive with swirling colors as he and Yusuke had focused on the fantasy they wanted to enact. Now, it looked terribly boring, a dull grey lumpy rock, giving no hint of the power it contained. Not only could it allow them their fantasy, but the effects of the fantasy lingered, as Kurama’s body informed him. A smile attempted to form on his lips, but he was still too well satisfied to move much. “Someone who didn’t know what it was.”

“Their loss.” Yusuke sighed, stroking Kurama’s hair gently. “I like it. We’ll have to try other things, after you’ve recovered.”

The smile broke through his fatigue and Kurama turned a little to look at his lover. “Maybe invite a particular half-koorime?” he suggested.

“I love your perverted side,” Yusuke purred, leaning down for a kiss.

Kurama returned the kiss as well as he could and sunk back into the bed, exhausted. “Of course you do. I can handle your perverted side and love it.”

Yusuke ran his hand gently down Kurama’s back. “You wanted the marks to remain, didn’t you?” he asked, watching as the redhead twitched under his touch.

“I enjoy this part, too,” Kurama admitted. “A lot.”

Yusuke shrugged. “Explains your fighting style,” he said as he pushed himself up from the bed. “I’ll get you something to drink. Relax.”

Kurama watched Yusuke leave the room, then sighed, letting his eyes close so he could focus on the throbbing of his body. He did enjoy pain, perhaps more than he should, and Yusuke was very good at pain. They suited each other well and the orb gave Yusuke the freedom he needed to abuse Kurama the way they both wanted. The thought of both Yusuke and Hiei working him over was almost enough to make him hard again. They would definitely need to use the orb together.


End file.
